Prompts
by vballmania23
Summary: A collection of drabbles written for The Firm's Monthly Prompt Challenge. May prompts - accusation, corruption, incomplete, and sleepwalking.
1. April 2009

A/N: This here is my collection of responses to The Firm's Montly Prompt Challenge. Prompts are on the profile page. Feel free to join in - anyone and everyone is welcome :)

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Prompts  
April, 2009

**Snowflakes**  
Most people think of snowflakes, and they imagine thousands of perfect white specks, each individual and beautiful. Alex thinks of snowflakes, and he imagines safety in numbers, hiding his differences by burying them from all but close inspection. After all, from a distance the snowflakes all blend together into an obscuring sheet of white.

**Reaper**  
The members of Scorpia used to call him the Reaper. He was aware of the nickname, but it didn't bother him. It is true, after all. In fact, he began to use it himself. He kept the identities separate, wearing disguises when using that name, so nobody knew he was both. It came in handy - he could use one persona to collect information and gossip about the other personal. It was 'The Reaper' who killed a prime minister. It was himself who kidnapped a politician's son for a week. He has separate contacts and informants for both - people who would not speak to him before are now willing to contact 'The Reaper' as long as he pays well. Half the police forces in the world have a bounty out for 'The Reaper' (real name - unknown). The other half are still searching for Alex.

**History**  
This isn't something they tell you in that history book of yours – the one with the crisp clean pages and dull words. Those scholars, removed from the very events they're writing and completely dismissing emotion – they don't know. They never will know, because it won't fit into their carefully formulaic texts. They skim through the top, never looking deeper. But I know the depths, so stop paging through it. The words aren't strong enough; they don't convey the feeling of the times; they don't tell all there is to hear. Listen to me, instead. Listen to one who was there, to one who saw the events happen – all of them. I may be old, but I remember. I knew Alex Rider.

**Automatic**  
She only asked him for one thing – one unbreakable rule. Never lie. He could keep secrets, he could omit truths, he could disappear on a mission for months. But he could never lie to her. That's all she asked and he - so in love – agreed. He didn't think about all the lies he had already told her, about all the lies that he rattled off automatically. It was more reflex, then actual thoughts. But he was too embarrassed to correct himself right away, and as the months passed he didn't want to tell her he had lied so long ago.


	2. May 2009

**A/N:** These are pretty short, but the end of the month kinda caught me by surprise. I've only posted three of the prompts, because the fourth one – Sleepwalking – tied in perfectly with my other oneshot titled "Six Days Alex Rider Never Died (And One That He Did)." If you want to read my response for that one, look under the heading "Tuesday"

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Prompts  
May, 2009

**Accusation**  
Alex was used to accusations from his fellow students. After years of secretive MI6 missions, he had become virtually invulnerable to their insults and petty gossip. He could now successfully survive an entire week of school listening to the various illegal scenarios bandied about without having to grit his teeth. He didn't fume as one of his former friends joined the speculating masses and didn't flinch as a school bully, emboldened by his inconsistent appearances, shoved him into a locker. He had gone beyond ignoring, beyond acting tough; he simply didn't care.

**Corruption**  
Mrs. Jones carefully dug a petite hand into her skirt pocket, cradling her last mint as she gently scooped it out. She tenderly unwrapped the sheer plastic, careful to leave it fully intact as one last memento. As the delicious aroma of peppermint flooded the immediate vicinity, Mrs. Jones popped the delicious treat into her mouth. She savored the flavor, committed every small detail to memory; tonight would be when she went to Scorpia and told them she quit, despite their tantalizing bribes. Peppermints or no peppermints, she could not betray Alex Rider.

**Incomplete**  
Every time Ian left on a mission, he felt as if he was leaving something behind. He would stand on the doorway of his Chelsea house, tabbing through the mental list permanently engraved in his head from years of experience - Appropriate clothes? Check. Toothbrush? Check. Toothpaste? Check. Shampoo? Check. Soap? Check. Gun? Check. False ID? Check… the list went on as he rummaged through the hastily packed suitcase now spread open on the kitchen floor. Every time he would discover nothing necessary out of place, and it confused him more and more. What was this nagging feeling in his mind that kept on insisting that he had missed something? Eventually Ian would be forced to leave without discovering the source of that nagging itch. He would stride out, distracted, worried, ignoring the small boy curled up in a corner that peered over his toys as his uncle left without a word goodbye.


End file.
